Page 1 of Something like Love

“Love cannot save you from your own fate.” Jim Morrison

I’ve never really understood the saying blood is thicker than water.

I mean, of course it is.

Blood is essentially made up of platelets, plasma, and red and white blood cells. And water—well, water is made up of oxygen and two hydrogen atoms. So it makes sense that blood is indeed thicker than water.

But it was only recently that I realized that the saying itself does not refer to the literal meaning but more to the philosophical notion of family and the strong ties that bind them. And the reason for my epiphany is because I found my family. We may not have been related by blood, but we were a family nonetheless.

A family of misfits.

However, I left my family of misfits in hopes that when I located my blood kin, the grass would be greener and blah, blah, blah

But now that I’ve found my nearest and dearest, which I am related to by blood, I understand another saying—you can choose your friends, but not your family.

And the reason I can relate is because sometimes the family you’re born into…just fucking sucks.

One could use so many words to describe their mother—caring, devoted, compassionate, loving, but most of all, a protector.

It’s a mother’s job to protect her child unconditionally, devoting her life to ensure her offspring grows up happy and feeling safe. But the lady before me fails on all accounts, as she was never devoted or a protector.

Maybe the words heartless, cold, callous, and selfish could best describe her. Yet I am utterly fascinated by her, as this is the woman who gave me life. She is also the woman who took it away.

“What are you doing here?” she gasps, and just like that, my earlier adjectives seem totally justified.

My face contorts at her clipped question because she may as well have slapped me with her formality.

“It’s lovely to see you too.”

“I’m s-sorry, I just…” She stutters nervously.

“It’s fine,” I reply, finally finding my voice. “I should never have come.”

I quickly turn to leave this train wreck behind.

As far as family reunions go, this one can be labeled a total disaster.

“No, Mia, wait!” she says, seizing my arm.

I yank out of her grip and face her with red-hot fury in my eyes.

She wrings her hands, obviously distressed by my hostile reaction, but I can’t contain my rage. Her touch feels like manacles imprisoning my heart, and I fear I’ll be sick if she lays her hands on me once more.

“Sorry,” she quickly apologizes, hands raised in surrender. “Come inside. It’s cold out.”

Is it? I’m totally numb and don’t feel a thing.

“Please,” she pleads when I don’t move.

I move only when I feel a familiar pair of hands wrap around my middle.

“Come on, Red,” Quinn says, his warm lips pressed against my ear.

Quinn Berkeley—he’s the only person I trust.

I nod, thankful his hands steady me since I’m about to fall flat on my face.

Cynthia gently guides the scowling teenager inside, and I follow apprehensively. I still cannot believe I’m here.

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